


Dreaming True

by fengirl88



Series: The Old Bad Songs and other stories [10]
Category: Maurice (1987), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crossover Pairing, M/M, Romance, The Old Bad Songs and other stories, challenge: love_bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-11
Updated: 2011-04-11
Packaged: 2017-10-17 23:15:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/182374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fengirl88/pseuds/fengirl88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Dreamt I was young again,” Lestrade grumbles, half sitting up and trying to get the crick out of his neck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreaming True

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kopoushka](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=kopoushka).



> written for kopoushka's birthday, because it was her idea they should meet in the first place, and as a fill for the love_bingo prompt square "somebody to love".

“Dreamt I was young again,” Lestrade grumbles, half sitting up and trying to get the crick out of his neck.

“Was that good or bad?” Maurice asks drowsily. His arm's still heavy across Lestrade's thigh.

“Good, I think. You were in it.”

“Oh well,” Maurice says, waking up a bit more. “Bound to be good then.”

“I climbed in through your bedroom window,” Lestrade says, remembering.

“Did you? Lucky me,” Maurice says. He pulls Lestrade back down and kisses his neck.

“Mm,” Lestrade says. “Couldn't do that now, not for real. Pity.”

“Couldn't do it here anyway,” Maurice says.

They're quiet for a bit, thinking about that. Maurice still has the same flat, on the 28th floor, and they both remember what that fall does to a body.

 _It was nearly yours_ , Lestrade thinks, though he doesn't say it. They'll probably never forget how close a call that was, but there's no need to go _looking_ for it.

“Were you at the big house again?” Maurice asks.

Lestrade nods. Hasn't dreamed about the place for a while, and he's not sure why it's happened now.

“Seemed like a different time though,” he says. “You were frightened. Thought you were sick. Tried to find someone to cure you.”

Maurice strokes his hair. “Still happening to some, isn't it?” he says. “What about that ex-gay app they had on iTunes?”

Lestrade buries his face in Maurice's shoulder and tries not to think about it. They're the lucky ones, he knows that.

He's always been lucky. Just a crying shame you have to think of it that way. Surviving.

All you can do is make the most of the time you've got. It's a hell of a lot more than you thought you'd have twenty years ago when it seemed like all your friends were dying.

And what he has with Maurice is more than he'd thought possible after five years of being unhappily fixated on Sherlock. Somebody to love. Somebody who loves him right back.

Maurice seems ordinary, next to Sherlock. Has that in common with, oh, 95% of the population of the UK. Maybe more. But he has an extraordinary gift for loving. Not just bed, though his hidden talents in that department were a revelation. All this time later, the memory of that first night they'd spent together can still make Lestrade catch his breath, make his pulse quicken. But it's the way Maurice looked at him that night that stays sharpest in his mind. Looked at him like Lestrade was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. The look Lestrade still sees oftener than you'd expect.

Nobody but an idiot thinks romance lasts for ever, though there are plenty of idiots around. Lestrade spent too much of his forties lonely and frustrated, missing out on what he could have had because nobody else was like Sherlock and he didn't want anything less. Trapped in something so bad for him he couldn't even see it for what it was.

What's come to him late in his life is a gift. Not just finding somebody to love, but believing he can be that for someone else.

“What happened in the end of your dream?” Maurice asks.

“Can't remember,” Lestrade says. “I think I was asleep and you woke me up. Or maybe it was the other way round. It was raining, I think, and you kissed me.”

“Like this?” Maurice kisses him lightly, teasingly, then grins as Lestrade gives a little _hngh_ of frustration.

“More like this,” Lestrade says, demonstrating.

“Mmm,” Maurice says, pressing against him. “Good dream, from the sound of it.”

“Waking up's better though,” Lestrade says, running his hands down Maurice's back.

“Yes it is,” Maurice says, a bit thickly. “Much better. So now we're both awake, how about you show me what happened when you climbed in through that window?”


End file.
